Chapter 3
Rhys’s fear about revisiting the past and spending time with his friends and Zoe had come true, albeit in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
They moved on from the pub terrace to The Ivy, a restaurant housed in an impressive Georgian building in chic Clifton Village, where Freddie and Zoe sat next to each other, their easy intimacy making Rhys wonder how their relationship hadn’t been obvious before.
When they reached Barnaby’s house, it was much harder to avoid them and even more obvious how Zoe and Freddie radiated towards each other.
It shouldn’t matter when he and Zoe were no longer an item, but she’d broken his heart, had seemingly cheated on him when they’d first been together at uni and was now with one of his friends.
Had everyone else known? Rhys tried to force down his resentment as a beer was handed to him and the music was turned up.
Almost everyone was gathered on the ground floor of the Georgian townhouse, where the front living room seamlessly transitioned into the kitchen, and the patio doors were thrown open onto the terraced garden.
Barnaby had done incredibly well for himself with a house that had to be worth seven figures, its sash windows, striped floorboards and dado rails working beautifully with the modern touches.
They must have spent a fortune on builders to renovate it, managing to get the place liveable in a fraction of the time it had taken Rhys to finish his three-bed Victorian terrace.
He shouldn’t compare himself to Barnaby, not when it would only make him feel even worse about himself.
So Rhys went through the motions of pretending he was having a good time – easy enough to do with copious amounts of alcohol.
He drifted between people, chatting absent-mindedly while nursing a beer, making a concerted effort to chat with Fabs’s London friends, who didn’t know anything about him and his past relationships.
But despite his intentions to not let the truth about Freddie and Zoe get the better of him, Rhys kept catching sight of them.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away, noticing the way Zoe would laugh at something Freddie said and how she’d throw her head back in a full throaty chuckle.
His eyes were drawn to the milky skin of her throat and down to her cleavage, which was pushed up in that little red dress.
And the way her hand brushed Freddie’s arm – his solid, muscled, gym-honed arm.
A fire burned in his core, intent on flaring up and joining forces with that little jabbing voice in his head that made him want to spit and shout and scream, to release all those feelings of hurt and worthlessness that had been building in the year since Zoe had left.
What he needed was closure, which Zoe being with someone else should have given him, but not when she’d moved on with his friend .
Seeing them so comfortable and perfect together made him question everything, particularly their student years and the lies she must have spun.
The fact that Freddie – one of his closest friends – had been complicit felt like a huge betrayal.
A juddering thought slammed into him: had Fabs known about Freddie and Zoe back then too?
Tuning out of the conversation about London politics, Rhys swivelled, feeling dizzy as he searched for Fabs, but there was no sign of him and it was difficult to make out who was chatting together in the fairy-light-lit garden.
He did spot Zoe extracting herself from beneath Freddie’s arm and heading towards the kitchen. With his sights on Freddie, Rhys made his move. Gripping the neck of his beer bottle, and fuelled by alcohol and adrenaline, he closed the distance between them.
Freddie noticed him too late to move away and Rhys nearly stumbled into him.
‘Are you two going to Sardinia together?’ he blurted out, inwardly grimacing that he sounded like a petulant child.
Freddie looked at him warily. ‘Yeah, that’s why I wanted to give you a heads-up earlier.’
‘Out of the goodness of your heart, I suppose,’ Rhys said, unable to stop the sarcasm in his voice.
‘Well, yeah. What the hell’s with the tone, mate?’ Freddie shuffled uncomfortably. ‘I know this is a bit of a weird situation, what with you being Zoe’s ex and all, but?—’
‘A bit of a weird situation?’ Rhys spat back. ‘You know I was in love with her.’
The second the words were out of his mouth he regretted them because of the pitying look Freddie gave him. Freddie was everything he wasn’t: bolder, fitter, bigger, funnier, more confident. The list went on and on. Of course Zoe would wind up with someone like him.
Acutely aware of everyone else in the room, and realising that the music wasn’t quite loud enough to overpower the conversation, Rhys tried to control his anger.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Zoe hanging back in the kitchen, watching.
He lowered his voice and tried to backtrack.
‘It’s fine to be with her now, but when we were together at uni? Gareth told me.’
Freddie’s eyes widened. ‘We fooled around a bit.’ He shrugged as if it was nothing. ‘I honestly didn’t think you two were that serious…’
Rhys saw red. Freddie was spewing lies. All nineteen-year-old Rhys had talked about when he’d first been with Zoe was how wonderful she was.
Freddie would have been an idiot to not have known how hard Rhys had fallen for her.
And yet he’d happily ‘fooled around’ with her, while she’d obviously cared so little for him that she’d slept with one of his mates behind his back.
Rhys slammed his bottle on the marble mantlepiece and launched himself at Freddie.
Rage thrummed through him as he put his full weight into the punch.
His fist connected with Freddie’s cheek with a satisfying smack, splitting his lip and sending blood spraying.
Pain ricocheted up Rhys’s arm and his knuckles burned as he stumbled back.
There were shouts of ‘what the hell!’ as he charged back towards Freddie, still with a desperate desire to smash his fist over and over into his smugly handsome face.
Zoe was screaming at him to stop. Someone grabbed his arms and wrestled him away. Zoe flashed him a look of loathing before rushing over to Freddie, who was cradling one side of his face.
Rhys struggled against the firm hands holding him back. Hot tears blurred his vision, while rage still smouldered in his heart.
Friends rushed around Freddie and Zoe, casting looks of disappointment and downright disbelief.
‘Rhys. Rhys!’
It was Fabs who was gripping his shoulders as he herded him out of the room.
In the quiet of the hallway, Rhys caught the worry on his friend’s face, mixed with a touch of pity.
Rhys’s heart dropped. Not only had he made a fool of himself, but he’d made a scene at his best friend’s stag do by allowing those lingering feelings for Zoe to get the better of him.
‘I’m okay. I’m calm.’ He dropped his gaze from Fabs’s and wrenched himself away from his grip. ‘Did you know, though? About them being together when we were at uni?’
Fabs sighed and beckoned him into the room on the opposite side of the hallway. Rhys reluctantly followed and stood his ground in the middle of Barnaby’s book-lined study.
Fabs perched on the armchair next to the fireplace.
‘I had my suspicions. I’m sorry, Rhys. Obviously they were both invited to the wedding, but until Freddie said they’d only need one room, I hadn’t realised they were together.
I wanted to tell you, but Freddie asked me not to.
He said he wanted to tell you himself; I just didn’t realise he was going to wait until tonight.
’ He folded his arms. ‘I should have said something. I knew how much you liked her.’
‘And now I know how little she thought about me.’ His head swam with regret as much as drunkenness. ‘I’m sorry for causing a scene.’
‘You don’t have to apologise for that.’ Fabs adjusted his Rolex and stood up, looking at him firmly.
‘Zoe and Freddie are friends, but you’re my best friend, Rhys.
If anyone’s to blame, it’s them for telling you about their relationship at the worst possible time.
I absolutely should have said something, about them being together now, and my suspicions about them when we were at uni. ’
Rhys grunted. ‘It wouldn’t have made a difference. I was besotted with Zoe at nineteen. I’d have probably hated you for telling me something I would have refused to believe.’
‘Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for not speaking up.’ Fabs clapped his hand on his shoulder. ‘You okay?’
Rhys nodded despite feeling as if his emotions had been dissected. ‘I’m gonna go home. Not sure I want to face everyone right now.’
* * *
Rhys never liked getting back to an empty house, but as he staggered in that night, chased by a feeling of shame and leftover rage, he hated it.
The whole situation was a mess and he was annoyed with himself for the way he’d handled it, making a spectacle of himself while coming across as the bad guy because of his reaction.
He stood in the dark, quiet hallway. He’d love to get a dog, but knew it wouldn’t be fair when he was out five days a week working a long school day.
What was the point if he had to get someone else to take them for a walk and keep them company?
His sabbatical was only temporary and in a year’s time he’d be back to the grind.
Not that he felt that way about his job necessarily, it was just how he felt about everything right now, going through the motions of life listlessly, like he was drifting with no clear direction, no idea of what he wanted or how he really felt.
That was why he needed some time out. Being snappy and stressed with his classroom of kids wasn’t fair on them and had left him with so much guilt he’d decided drastic action was needed.
But tonight, drowning his sorrows had definitely not been a good idea, and the truth about Freddie and Zoe had knocked him sideways.
Why had Zoe rekindled their relationship years later, only to wind up with Freddie?
He should be relieved that he was no longer with her – he’d put in all the effort, and for what?
For her to have played him for years; for her to have lied to him from the very start.
She and Freddie had just proved that he was better off without her.
Why then did he feel incapable of finding or deserving love?